Sweeter Revenge
by Ryocha
Summary: A repeat of what happened last time was NOT what Sven was asking for. Rather, he wanted to be in control of the situation this time around, but Train has other ideas. Sequel to "Sweeter than Milk", TrainSven


**Sweeter Revenge  
**_By: Ryocha_

**A/U:** This is the sequel to 'Sweeter than Milk', my bastard child-of-a Black Cat SvenTrain PWP oneshot. Read it first so you understand this fanfic!

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The scalding summer heat didn't do much for his roasted body. It was bad enough that the green-haired man was forced to wait in the sun with Eve for Train to return from wherever he said he "wanted to go to". On top of that, Sven always knew when his money was leaking out of his wallet, and right now he had that deadly notion as he pinched his brow with a disdained grunt. This probably meant the ex-assasin had run off to his favourite place in the world to be: the supermarket where he always went to buy his milk-flavoured pocky.

Sven let his neck go loose as it fell back over the edge of his seat, his eyes closing as the protective shade of his hat dissolved into more sunbeams aiming to roast his tanned face.

Yes, he remembered that "pocky" food very well. It had been a good couple of months since the "incident" between him and Train, where the man had pinned him down with his legs and force-fed him the bastardous food.

Sven pursed his lips and slowly let go his breath in a long and steady stream; he didn't see what was so appealing about the food to begin with. Out of mere curiosity did he go and buy a different flavour and promptly found it to be addicting, yes, but very unhealthy. However, it was cheap too - which he personally didn't mind - but every time he went to go grab a box for Eve (who favoured the strawberry flavoured kind), he would constantly be reminded of his first experience with the snack treat.

Shuddering momentarily inside his sweat-ridden suit, he felt Eve tug his hand softly as she made a soft noise of distress with her mouth. "Sven."

"Mmm? Yeah Eve?"

"Train's coming back from the market." Her voice sounded a bit cheery, so Sven assumed that she had spotted her own box of pocky the brown-haired sweeper had bought for her.

"Great, let's hope he didn't buy anything expensive." The green-haired sweeper muttered under his breath, uncrossing his arms from behind his head and straightened his blurry vision.

Suddenly, a green box was shoved inches away from his face.

"SVENNY-BABY! I found mint-flavoured for you!" Resisting the urge to punch the man clean off his feet, Sven lightly pushed the box out of his line of vision to find a happy, sweaty Black Cat smiling down at him excitedly.

"And why would you think I would even touch this food? It's not in my Gentlemen's code – and why mint anyway?"

Train blinked and crossed his arms, "Well, I thought mint because of your hair. That, and the salesguy reccomended it to me."

"Train, that's called having a marketing ability and you just proved that his worked. Secondly, why would my hair colour have anything to do with my taste in food?"

"Well, you like takoyaki…"

"Shut it."

It was ironic, that's what.

It was the only thought that Sven found himself turning over inside his head while he read the newspaper, his cigarette cradled in between his lips as his eyes scanned over the articles without taking the words in. He couldn't read properly today, and it was ticking him off.

_It's because of this place_, he reminded himself.

When the trio had arrived back in to the desert city to find a place to stay for a couple of months, low and behold, they got stuck with THE EXACT SAME apartment as they had been from their previous visit. Again, Sven found himself thinking back to "the incident" that happened in their bedroom, the room that he could see from his pivotel position on the couch in the living room.

They decided to use the same rooming plan as last time, seeing as the green-haired gentleman wanted to give Eve her space and leave Train an excuse to smack him again in his sleep. However the difference this time around was that Train was sleeping on the floor, and Sven merely chalked it up to one of his many "cat-like abilities" to keep the other man quiet.

But recently, ever since they had moved back into the apartment, the one-eyed sweeper had taken note that Train had taken many extra precautions to avoid any unneeded contact between them. Whether it was his way of saying "I'm sorry" for the incident or the fact that he was planning something sinister; he wasn't sure what to assume first.

_But first off,_ he reminded himself gravely, _I need to give him this._

He almost regretted buying it since it was a bit more expensive than the regular kind, but Sven had gone out of his way to do something nice for Train. And this Good Samaritan's act was buying a deluxe box of milk-flavoured pocky that just happened to be on sale at the time of purchase.

He figured that he might as well give his partner this to make up for all the times he did good and didn't complain, so why was he so nervous?

He found himself looking idly at the mint-flavoured pocky box that lay untouched on the coffee table. Perhaps he should try it and give the food another chance. He sighed, "One stick wouldn't hurt."

Reaching over, his one golden eye observed the box as though it was a disease. He then broke open the cardboard restraints and teared open the plastic packaging from the wrong end. ("Why do they make the rip line so damn small? It's as if they're ASKING for you to do it wrong.")

Using his thumb and his index finger, he plunged into the pocky pouch and withdrew a single stick – a deep chocolate brown colour with a light green paste covering approximately four fifths of it.

Bringing it to his mouth, he was about to take his first bite, before…

**CHOMP.**

"Heya Sven."

"TRAIN!" The green-haired sweeper's eye went wide as he flipped backwards in his recliner.

It seemed as though the Black Cat had appeared out of nowhere, for he never rememebered hearing any noise while he did all of his work trying to get the pocky out of its box.

Blinking twice and then smiling, Train pulled himself off the arm of the hidious orange recliner and stood back, hands on his hips and a smile on his face. "I think that I did a pretty good job with picking the right flavour." He put a finger to his lower lip and prodded it softly, "It suits you well."

Sven could only blink. "Eh?"

"It's strong but it holds its taste. It leaves a good impression, and most importantly…" Sven watched on in horror as the golden-eyed assasin placed two hands on either side of the recliner's arms. Still lurched back in the recliner, the green-haired sweeper felt a thigh being placed in between his legs. He shuddered, and did well to conceil his reaction.

But Train sensed all of this, and smiled.

"But most importantly… it looks pretty good, too."

As Train lowered his head, Sven held what felt like his last breath as he watched Train eat the pocky stick right out of his hands. Nibbling down the tasty treat did he go oh so slowly; Sven gulped and darted his eyes left and right.

It seemed as though whenever this went on, Eve was in her room reading or occupying herself with something else of interest. Sven silently made a prayer that she would not come in on him and Train like this. Slowly, he regained his composure.

"Train, finish up and get off. Eve could—"

"I know, I know…" The familiar drone from an irritated Black Cat responded to the casual turn-off. Biting down harder than needed, Train picked up what was left of the stick in his mouth and pulled himself off his partner in crime.

"Jeez, you always like ruining things like that, don't you?"

A cigarette was lit. "No. Not really. You just have impeccable timing for when you _do_ decide to."

"So you don't hate it completely?" An eyebrow was arched in curiosity at the older man.

Sven watched Train with his one golden eye, watching him walk up to the open window adjacent to his recliner and lean out the window to take in the summer breeze that went through their whitewashed apartment.

Coughing, the emerald-haired male reached out to the coffee table where his newspaper had been discarded to till only a few seconds ago. Taking it in tanned hands, he pulled it back up onto his lap, layed it down and began reading the cover page. Absentmindedly, his other free hand reached over and pulled out a pocky stick, and he nibbled on it numbly in his mouth.

"I don't mind."

A pair of cat eyes perched on sly features turned their attention back to their prey. Train's smile was hidden by the collar of his coat as he pushed off the frame of the window and walked slowly back over to where his partner nibbled on the pocky.

"You had something for me, too, I'm assuming."

"Mhmm, you guessed right."

He pulled out the deluxe box and watched Train practically fall to pieces as he cracked open the cardboard. He smiled gingerly, handsomely, as he pulled out one of the packets and shot a look at his partner, who was now down on his knees and perching his head on the arm of the recliner.

"Svenny-baby! You didn't have to, really…" His words spoke of humble intentions, but the dribble of drool coming from the corner of his mouth belayed it.

Sven chuckled, "It's nothing, really. But," he ripped the packet open, "Promise me you'll find the right time to do whatever the hell you want, get it out of your system, and NEVER speak about it anyone." He pulled out a single stick, tiny chunks of chocolate hidden underneith the milky layer.

Train nodded fanatically, fingers pawing the stick like a stray cat asking for food. Sven merely laughed, and rose the stick out of the sweeper's reach.

"Hey!"

"Gotta work for it."

"Sven, Train."

The two sweepers stopped in mid-action as Eve shuffled quietly into the room, a green book clutched to her chest and a tentative look in her large eyes.

"Mmyeah, Eve?"

"Rinslet told me to wait down in the lobby for her; we're going…"

Sven nodded, "Yeah, she told me about that ahead of time. Come back around five for dinner, alright? My treat." He smiled to her and raised his arm a little higher. Train began scrambling up his body for the pocky stick.

Eve blinked, her mouth hanging open a little at the sight. She closed it, remembering to be polite, and bowed before shuffling to the door. It closed with a loud click when she left, almost deafening to the silence.

"Letting Eve go off alone with Rinslet? That's pretty daring of you." Train commented once the blond princess was out of earshot, "Don't you think you're letting her go too soon, papa?"

Sven waved him off with a grunt, "She insisted she go alone; she needs her independence and Rinslet offered to take her out shopping for clothes anyway."

"Aren't you nervous?" Train idly watched the lost cigarette in the ashtray crumble.

"Of course."

The timing was perfect. Train leaned over and bit the stick of pocky out of Sven's hands. "Shall I help you, then?"

The words spoken one would assume were innocent, however they were weaved with a promise Sven only half understood. He didn't quite know what posessed him to let Train slide into his lap, his legs hanging off the side of the chair while he finished up the pocky stick still in his hand. Silence passed between them, and Sven couldn't only help but watch and ignore any creepy thoughts that were passing through his head at that very moment.

"It's rather good. But there's something…" The coyly posed Black Cat prodded his lower lip, "offsetting. There's something offsetting about this pocky."

Sven cocked a slim green eyebrow, "Offsetting? Don't tell me you're complaining! I bought that on sale, it can't taste bad!"

"I didn't say it was bad."

"Then what the hell does it taste like, then?" Sven snapped; how could Train complain when it cost him more than usual? His wallet wept.

But his thought stopped dead when he saw Train lean in. His golden eyes were filled with nervousness - they made a silent appolagy as they closed - and lips were pressed on lips for a very brief moment, which felt like an eternity to the green-haired sweeper.

It wasn't entirely horrible, Sven reasoned with the functioning part of his brain; rather he wanted to convince himself that this wasn't happening. Train had gone rigid in the act; his mouth was the only thing that was moving. Slowly, he moved some of the paste still on his lips over into his partner's mouth, a slow sensual act that made Sven wish his partner wasn't on his lap to feel his excitement.

Train was the first to pull away, his eyes glazed over and his heart beating fast. Through this, he smiled lopsidedly, "Well, what does it taste like?"

Sven paused, still taking in the taste and the act that had brought the taste to his mouth. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find a functioning part of his brain that would relay what he wanted to say. However, what was left of his common sense had been thrown into the wind.

"Screw it."

He pulled his partner back into him, all too eager to continue what they had just started.

* * *

"It's all your fault, Train!"

"Oh shut it, I didn't know you would have an allergic reaction to the pocky!" Train bellowed from the kitchen, hoping his words carried their force into the bedroom, where his partner's usual gentleman demeaner had crumbled under the weight of a rash and a bad cold.

Sven sniffled, wanting nothing more than to bury himself underneith the covers and to stay there. It was embaressing enough to get interrupted halfway through a session with a sneeze, then a cough and then have a rash break out on your neck and arms – but when Train began to laugh, that was it. He had no more patience or sympathy for the man.

Train appeared at the door, looking meek. If he had a tail and ears, Sven mused; they would be lieing flat in appolagy.

"What were you allergic to, anyway?" The ex-assasin asked as he set down a tray on the bedside table.

"Some rare type of nut that got mixed in with the chocolate, I think." Sven sniffled, then blew his nose into a used tissue, "I never knew I had allergies, to be honest."

"Me neither." Train responded softly, "How bad is the rash?"

"It goes up my arms, my neck, down my chest…" Sven rambled off, coughing in embaressment.

Train flatlined. "Oh."

"…It's your fault."

"How the hell is it my fault?! That's it; the next time you want it, don't come asking me then!"

"You were _in my lap_." Sven hissed out between his teeth.

"Well that's your fault for letting me get there."

What had originally been a present for his friend had turned into something Sven was only all too happy to forget, only too happy to ignore for the rest of his mortal life. He decidedly ignored Train's rambling, and burried his head into his pillow.

Sweeter revenge on Train's part, and a bad rash on Sven's part. What in dear god was the Old Man up there planning for him?

-OWARI

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A/N: This fanfic was in production for a year on and off, and I know people wanted it, but I kept losing motivation to finish it and other things got in the way. But here it is, a year later, and this author's note just ran into the 8th page on my Microsoft Word! XD

Blarg! I need a rest. Reviews are loved, you TrainSven fans!


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